All In But Not Yet Over
by Lex
Summary: House in his tux and Cam in that red dress inspired this little continuation of All In. The first in a series of snapshottype scenes, based upon the events of this story, all of which can be read as oneshots or otherwise. Rated M for language at the mom


**All In, But Not Yet Over, part 1**

**Rated: Mature, for language and sex (funny, how those two things often go together … )**

**Pairing: House/Cameron**

**Takes place after "All In"**

The benefit was officially over. The bar was closed, the musicians had packed up and gone, and the catering staff were busy carrying away tables, chairs, and the other props they'd provided for the fundraising gala. Almost all of the guests had left, but a few stragglers were still slowly making their way to the elevators. Most were finishing a last drink, or were reluctant to abandon a conversation and/or a potential romance, but there was one who was simply too happy, too buoyed up, to want the party to end: Dr. Alison Cameron was having a wonderful night.

She'd been enjoying herself well enough when House had summoned her, along with Chase and Foreman, to work on an urgent case. Cameron hadn't minded, because she liked her work. And then House had taken one look at her in her new red dress (which left attractively bare her collarbone and slim white shoulders), her soft honeyed-sable curls falling gently over exposed creamy skin, and her curved lips, slightly parted and covered with a light gloss – and stopped dead in the middle of a sentence. He'd let out a long, low, appreciative whistle and fixed his eyes on her for what seemed an eternity, before finally shaking his head as if to clear it, blinking rapidly, and then plunging back into the details of the case as if nothing had happened. But there'd been no mistaking House's genuine admiration, nor the hot flare that lit his eyes when he'd seen her, and the incident had beautifully enhanced the sparkle already shining in Cameron's clear eyes.

The medical emergency – its dramatic nature and its successful conclusion – that called House and his team away from the party had gotten the ducklings' adrenaline pumping, and Cameron was still wired up. She, Chase, and Foreman had managed to share a number of celebratory drinks before the bar closed, but when it became impossible to ignore the late hour any longer, Cameron had told the guys to go on ahead to the garage (they'd all come in Foreman's car) while she made a quick trip to the ladies' room. Now she hurried, high heels clicking on the marble floors, toward the elevators.

And, there, close to the elevator bay, seated at one of the few remaining tables, were Drs. House and Wilson. They were playing cards. Wilson was laughing in his usual genial fashion, his brown eyes animated. House was smoking an enormous cigar, and chuckling in a way that touched Cameron's heart. It was so seldom that she saw him this relaxed, this easy with himself, this … well, this _happy_. The two of them reminded her of small boys, up to no good. Smiling, she approached the table and said warmly, "Nice save tonight, House."

House looked up. "Why, Dr. Cameron," he exclaimed, as his eyes lingered appreciatively on her face, then pointedly dropped to her bare shoulders and her cleavage. He waved his cigar expansively. "Such kind words could only be improved upon if accompanied by a lap dance." He raised his eyebrows suggestively at her, and pushed his chair back from the table. "Hop on!" He loved to provoke her.

But Cameron, to House's surprise, didn't sigh resignedly, or roll her eyes, or look annoyed. Not even a hint of a clench. Instead, she gazed at him directly, a small smile turning up the corners of her mouth; the events of the night, along with the drinks, had given her confidence. House had just enough time to register the spark of mischief in her eyes before Cameron blithely climbed onto his lap. She settled herself lightly, sitting sideways, twining her arms around his neck, and plucking the cigar from his fingers. She was secretly amused at House's stunned expression, and at the sudden nervous way he tensed against the press of her body.

("Big talker, House, aren't you"), she thought with affection, and had to smother a giggle.

Cameron nestled closer and sensuously caressed House's jaw line, her fingers brushing lightly over the stubble that House had declined to shave off, despite the tuxedo he was wearing. Cameron liked the combination of scruff and suavity. She deliberately ground her ass against House's groin, under the guise of getting comfortable, and was rewarded by his sharp intake of breath. Moving her face close to his, Cameron licked at House's ear. Then, pressing her lips against the corner of his mouth, she purred throatily,

"Nice save tonight, House."

She performed an extra little grind for good measure, hopped agilely off House's lap, and walked off without looking back.

All was silent at the card table, until House at last remembered to exhale. He cocked his head. He looked at Wilson, who looked back at him, his mouth fallen open. House blinked.

"Wow," he finally said. He figured that pretty well summed it up.

"Go after her," Wilson blurted out, with typical enthusiasm. "Please tell me you're not going to let her walk away after that! Go after her!"

"Ah, I'm not fit to be going _anywhere_ at the moment," House replied wryly, and smirked as he pulled the table closer, so that the cloth covered his lap.

A little over an hour later, Gregory House found himself - to his trepidation, irritation, and anticipation – outside Cameron's apartment door. From the minute she'd sat on his lap and stuck her little pink tongue in his ear, House had known that this was where he'd end up. She'd pressed up against him and kissed him, and the world hadn't ended. She'd touched him and whispered to him, and he felt no sudden urge to hug puppies or to be pleasant. Her breath had fanned his neck, and his head hadn't exploded (though something else almost had, he thought dryly). In fact, as he'd climbed into his car, he couldn't remember exactly why he'd resisted this for so long.

Now, however, as he stalled outside her door like some gawky kid, all the reasons against what he was about to do resurfaced. This was a really bad idea. A really, really bad idea. Unless, of course, it was a really, really good one. Funny, how those two things could be so hard to tell apart. And, God, he had only just begun to get over his shock, only just started to respond to the unbelievable electric sexiness of having Alison Cameron in his lap, with her ass against his crotch and her mouth so close to his, and she was gone! Which clearly wasn't fair. So he deserved to be here. She'd smelled like vanilla and baby powder; her silky hair had brushed his cheek. He'd liked the way she'd said his name, and she hadn't clenched at all. House's stomach muscles tightened. He_ wanted_ to do this, he _wanted_ to see her … and so he would. He rapped on the door with his cane, and waited.

Cameron opened the door. She was still wearing the red dress.

"Hi," said House.

"Uh , hi," replied Cameron, smiling uncertainly, and then more warmly. "Come on in." House was just about to do so, when he froze. Fuck. Chase had appeared in the living room behind Cameron, carrying a beer and looking right at home, with that ridiculous hair flopping into his eyes, his tie undone, and his jacket nowhere to be seen. House stared at him, his face an expressionless mask; his only response to Chase's somewhat startled greeting was to look first at the floor, then up at the ceiling. Then House gave an unpleasant, bitter little laugh, and said flatly, "Right. Sorry. Stupid idea. See you at work." Before Cameron could react, he turned and started to limp back to the elevator. ("Jesus, could I have looked any more like a pathetic idiot"), he railed to himself.

"House! _House_!" Gritting his teeth, House turned to see Cameron, who, having closed the apartment door behind her, was hurrying down the hall after him. She had that familiar worried little furrow between her eyebrows, and that familiar anxious look in her eyes. House groaned inwardly; he really couldn't stomach her fussing or concern right now. "What's wrong? Where are you going?"

"Where do you _think_ I'm going," House snapped. He shook Cameron's arm from his sleeve, and continued on his way to the elevator. "I wouldn't want to get in the way of hot wombat love."

"No, no," Cameron protested frantically, grabbing hastily at his sleeve again. "It's not like that!"

House stopped walking and looked coldly at the lovely, earnest face turned up to his. Did she expect him to believe that? The powerful high that had energized him since his victory over the disease which had beaten him when Esther died, and that had intensified when Cameron sat on his lap and caressed him, had vanished. All of a sudden, he felt overwhelmingly tired.

"It's _not_ like that," Cameron insisted. "Foreman's here, too. We were just going to have a little post-party drink, and then they were going to head home. Please come back, House."

House looked at the ground and exhaled heavily through clenched teeth. This had been a bad idea. A really, really bad idea. He was on the verge of saying so, when the apartment door opened, and out came Chase and Foreman. Foreman had his "I'm above all this crap" face on, but Chase was ostentatiously rubbing his eyes and yawning dramatically. "Hadn't realized it was so late," the Australian remarked apologetically. "Better get going."

House rolled his eyes as the kid actually faked an "I'm falling asleep" type stretch. "You'd better keep your day job," he told Chase. "You'll never make it on stage." Chase just grinned boldly at his boss and continued on his way, with Foreman, impassive, following him.

"Wait, guys," said Cameron half-heartedly, striving to sound convincing. "You don't have to go …" Her voice faltered as House glared exasperatedly at her.

"Yes, they DO," he corrected her, in a loud whisper.

"I was trying to be polite."

"Oh, for … What the hell is it with you and 'polite?'" House scowled impatiently down at her. "If 'polite' is so important to you, how come you're rudely keeping me standing here in the hall?"

Cameron looked pertly up at her boss. "It'll be a sad day when I have to take lessons in good manners from YOU," she said sweetly. "Please, won't you come in?" House snorted, which wasn't good manners at all, as Cameron pointed out, but she let him follow her into her apartment anyway.

End Part 1


End file.
